Katherine Parr, the sixth wife of King Henry VIII, is named regent while the tyrant battles abroad. When the king returns, increasingly ill and paranoid, Katherine finds herself fighting for her own survival.
Katherine Parr, the sixth and final wife of Henry VIII, has long been overshadowed by her more infamous predecessors. Despite her survival in a court filled with political intrigue and peril, she has rarely been given the same level of attention in historical dramas. Firebrand, directed by Karim Aïnouz and adapted from Elizabeth Fremantle's novel "The Queen's Gambit," attempts to correct this oversight by offering a dramatic reimagining of her story. However, while the film sets the stage for a bold revisionist take, it often struggles to fully capitalise on its premise, leaving audiences with an uneven but occasionally gripping historical drama.
At its core, Firebrand presents Katherine Parr (Alicia Vikander) as a woman attempting to navigate a treacherous political landscape while advocating for religious reform. The film introduces her as a figure of quiet strength, committed to her beliefs and determined to make a difference from within the system. Her alliance with radical Protestant preacher Anne Askew (Erin Doherty) underscores her willingness to push against the rigid structures of power, even as the threat of execution looms over her. Yet, despite the film’s attempts to frame her as a revolutionary force, Katherine's agency often feels diminished, with events largely happening to her rather than being driven by her actions.
The script, penned by Jessica and Henrietta Ashworth, amplifies Katherine's defiance by portraying her efforts to reintroduce the English Bible during her brief tenure as regent while Henry VIII is away at war. This sets up an ideological struggle between Katherine’s cautious reformist stance and Askew’s more radical approach. Katherine believes she can sway the King’s perspective, insisting that "he listens to me." However, her faith in her influence over Henry is ultimately misplaced, as the film makes it clear that his temperament is unpredictable and his paranoia ever-growing.
Central to the film’s narrative is Jude Law’s portrayal of Henry VIII, a performance so commanding that it often overshadows everything else. Law transforms into the ailing monarch, capturing his physical and moral decay with unsettling realism. Beneath layers of prosthetics and an imposing frame, he conveys the volatility of a ruler whose favour can turn to fury in an instant. His Henry is grotesque yet charismatic, embodying the unchecked power and entitlement of a man who sees himself as divinely ordained. His presence dominates the screen, and as a result, much of the film’s tension hinges on his unpredictable moods.
In contrast, Alicia Vikander delivers a measured and restrained performance as Katherine. While she convincingly portrays her as a woman of intellect and conviction, her stoic approach sometimes struggles to match Law’s overpowering energy. Their scenes together highlight this imbalance—while Law’s Henry is a force of nature, Vikander’s Katherine often feels reactive rather than proactive. This contrast, while perhaps intentional, results in a protagonist who is difficult to fully connect with. Instead of feeling like an active agent of change, she often appears to be simply surviving the ordeal of her marriage.
Visually, Firebrand is stunning, with cinematographer Hélène Louvart capturing the richness and texture of Tudor-era England. The naturalistic lighting and muted colour palette lend the film a grounded, immersive quality. Costumes by Michael O’Connor are equally impressive, providing a tangible sense of the period’s opulence and rigidity. The film effectively conveys the suffocating atmosphere of the court, where even the grandest feasts can suddenly turn into scenes of horror depending on the King’s whims.
Despite its strong performances and evocative visuals, Firebrand struggles with pacing and focus. The screenplay juggles multiple narrative threads, including Katherine’s relationship with Askew, her precarious position in court, and the overarching religious tensions of the era. However, rather than weaving these elements into a cohesive whole, the film often feels uncertain about its central theme. Is it a feminist reimagining of Katherine’s story? A political thriller? A psychological portrait of a tyrant’s final days? By trying to be all these things at once, it occasionally loses its momentum.
The film’s opening title card suggests a bold retelling of history, stating, "History tells us a few things, mostly about men and war. For the rest of humanity, we must draw our own, often wild, conclusions." This introduction promises an audacious approach, but the film ultimately plays it safer than expected. While the climax takes significant liberties with historical accuracy, much of the film remains restrained, never fully embracing the radical energy hinted at in its premise.
Where Firebrand truly excels is in its depiction of the dangers of life under Henry’s rule. The ever-present threat of execution looms over every conversation, and the casual recitation of names of those who have been sentenced to death is chilling. The film highlights the precarious balance Katherine must maintain—too outspoken, and she risks being accused of heresy; too passive, and she loses the ability to protect herself and those she cares about. Her friendship with Askew is particularly fraught, as it becomes clear that any association with radical thought can be used as evidence against her.
Jude Law’s performance elevates the film significantly, providing the tension and unpredictability that drive many of its most compelling moments. His portrayal of Henry as a decaying, paranoid ruler is both grotesque and fascinating, capturing the contradictions of a man who sees himself as an immortal leader even as his body betrays him. His ability to shift from jovial to terrifying within a single scene keeps the audience on edge, reinforcing the sense that no one in his court is truly safe.
Unfortunately, Vikander’s Katherine, while dignified and intelligent, never fully commands the screen in the same way. Her character is written as a woman of great inner strength, but the script does not give her enough decisive moments to assert her presence against Henry. This is particularly noticeable in their confrontations—while Henry is loud, menacing, and physically imposing, Katherine’s resistance is mostly internal, making it difficult to translate into a cinematic experience that feels equally impactful.
Ultimately, Firebrand is a film with much promise but inconsistent execution. It offers a visually rich and well-acted portrayal of Katherine Parr’s struggles, yet it never fully commits to making her the compelling, dynamic lead she deserves to be. Jude Law’s mesmerizing performance as Henry VIII often steals the show, leaving Vikander’s Katherine feeling somewhat overshadowed. While the film successfully captures the tension and fear of life in Henry’s court, it falls short of delivering a truly groundbreaking retelling of Katherine’s story.
For those drawn to historical dramas, Firebrand provides an engaging, if uneven, experience. Its strongest moments come from the oppressive atmosphere of the Tudor court and Law’s unnerving portrayal of Henry VIII. However, those expecting a truly radical reinterpretation of Katherine Parr’s life may find themselves wishing the film had taken even bolder steps. In the end, Firebrand is a film that, much like its protagonist, survives—but never quite thrives.
Firebrand will be in selected NZ cinemas from March 13, 2025